Sarah's Story
by TheLonelyMan
Summary: A short story that occurs during the events of Blade Runner 2049. If you haven't seen the film, be advised: there will be references to it in this story.
1. Chapter 1

(Note to readers: this takes place during the events of _Blade Runner 2049_ , so there may be references to events from the plot of that movie. If you haven't seen it, be advised: SPOILER ALERT!)

 _It all seemed real._

 _At first, there was nothing but total darkness, the air silent. Then, bright lights illuminated, and a room appeared. She was lying in the center, her knees drawn up to her chest, her long dark hair stuck to her shoulders by the slimy orange goo used to preserve quality skin._

 _Suddenly, the door opened. Two people, a man and a woman, stood outside, the man holding a case in his right hand. They were wearing the biege uniform tunics worn by all employees of the Wallace Corporation._

 _As they entered, she could hear them talking: "...I am aware that this is the 45th subject we've tested today, and for what? They're supposed to be sterile, that's how we designed them. Why does Mr. Wallace think they're capable otherwise?"_

 _"That's not for us to question. His instructions were clear: we're to test every new subject until we find one that matches the appropriate conditions."_

 _"Very well. Get her calm while I prepare the instruments."_

 _As the man turned his back on her, the woman got down on her knees and put her hand on the girl's face. She had a kind expression on her's, framed by hair with the same color, tied up in a long ponytail._

 _"Hello, little one. You have a long, prosperous life ahead, working for the benefit of others. And when the time comes, you will join those who came before in a better world, free of pain and suffering."_

 _Yet even as she said these words, the man behind her was removing sharp metal tools from the case and laying them out upon the floor. It didn't take much imagination to know what he planned to do._

 _So she bided her time. Eventually, the woman stood aside and the man approached her, a scalpel in his hand. "Now remain still, and this will be over quickly", he said in the most reassuring voice he could._

 _His hand coming close to her face, she waited until he was just inches away from her stomach. Then, in a rather fluid series of movements, she grabbed his wrist, turned it, and drove the scalpel right through his eye. Then she grabbed the woman by the throat and jumped on top of her._

 _Shocked and overpowered, the woman could only flail helplessly as the bones in her neck were crushed one by one. Then, she stopped moving._

 _She wasted no time. She began undressing the woman's body, putting on her tunic, skirt, bra, panties, and heels. As she was putting her own hair in a ponytail, she noticed something._

 _A small ID had fallen out of the tunic's pockets. She picked it up and opened it. Inside, she found a name: Sarah._

 _She didn't have a name. Creatures like her didn't need them. But things were different now. She decided that from now on, her name was Sarah._

 _Holding herself with an air of confidence and authority, she somehow made it out without being discovered._


	2. Chapter 2

It was a slow day at the office. Well, "office" was a strong word, given that they were on the street.

Specifically, they were hookers, looking for men and women hungry for sexual contact on the cheap. It wasn't how they wanted to make a living, but replicants were legally barred from most other professions.

With few interested customers, one of the girls took out the box of cigarettes she'd swiped earlier from a drunken hook-up and passed them out, along with a lighter.

As they lit up, the usual complaints surfaced.

"Damn, these are terrible, love."

"This fake shit is burning my lungs. You couldn't bother to get the good ones?"

"By all means, Jessy, pitch in the next time I make a run. Assuming you have any money left from buying drinks."

"How else am I supposed to get these buggers horny?"

Suddenly, a girl in a bright fur coat came storming out, dragging some red-faced oaf by the arm of his disheveled suit. She took him to the nearest alley and then rolled his sweaty, unconscious frame under a pile of uncollected trash.

"What the hell was that about, Mariette?"

"Oh, he didn't listen when I told him not to put his hands on the girls without paying up. He tried to hit me, and I was forced to remove him by physical force."

"Got your story straight for the cops, then. Very good, love."

"Well, seeing as how I'm supposed to be looking out for all of you, I feel it's important to set a good example."

"If you're setting examples, then how's about finding us some business?"

Flashing a smile, Mariette decided to try checking the back alleys rather than the usual spots. Sure, it was unorthodox, but maybe there was a drifter or bum or some homeless loser she could pick up. It was certainly worth a try.

At first, no luck. The alleys were deserted, covered in snow and frost. _It made sense_ , she thought. No non-replicant would be foolish enough to stay outside in this weather.

Then, she noticed a large pile, covered by a ratty blanket. Whoever was underneath was doing their best to remain still, but it wasn't quite working.

Mariette carefully removed the blanket, revealing a woman in a tattered tunic. Her eyes were glazing over, and she didn't make a sound.

The other girls were finishing their last cigarettes when they spotted their leader rushing inside with something slung over her shoulder. They followed her in, and for the next few minutes, chaos ensued.

Mariette snapped orders at the girls. "Shut the door! Cover the windows! Get me some scissors! And a drink!"


	3. Chapter 3

When Sarah opened her eyes, the first thing she felt was a cloud of smoke blowing in her face.

Hearing the coughs, the girl sitting next to her on the couch smirked. "Took your sorry ass long enough to wake up."

Sarah blinked. "Where am I? And who are you people?"

"Yup, she's one of us. Naive and good-looking, you can always tell."

"What do you mean, I'm one of you?"

"She means you're a replicant, love. You were grown in a test tube in some dirty little factory to be worked to death. We're the lucky ones. Well, if you count having to sleep in your clothes and eat every other third day lucky..."

"What Jess here means is that you're a slave. Nothing more, nothing less. At least that's what your purpose was. But now that we've found you, you have a chance. You can choose your own destiny."

"She can find her "destiny" after she pays me back for those threads."

"I saw you throw them out, Nia!"

"I ain't talking' about those, limey! She's wearing my best nylons!"

The girl in the bright coat took a ring from her left index finger and tossed it to Nia.

"That's worth double what those cost. Leave the poor thing alone."

Nia shrugged and left. The girl quickly took her seat.

"I'm Mariette. I've been here as long as anyone else, so you can trust me to help you. Now, how'd you end up in those alleys?"

"I don't quite remember, to be honest."

"Well, I suppose that's because you still don't fully trust us. That's understandable. We don't get to learn how the world works the way they do, as children. Either we figure it out, or we die. Simple as that."

"Can you really help me?"

"Of course. There are others, hidden in the shadows, who want to make the world safer for our kind. They're always looking for new faces..."

"Mary! Cops!"

At the sound of an approaching siren, most of the girls seemed to melt into the walls. The few who were left shoved Sarah under the bar just as two male replicants in uniforms entered.

Mariette stepped up. "Is there a problem, officers?"

The taller of the two, a heavyset type with a graying mustache, spoke first. "The Wallace Corporation has authorized us to track down missing subjects and return them to custody as soon as possible. We've been advised that one has been seen in the general area. Can you tell us anything?"

"Well, I know these streets better than anyone. So I can tell you with confidence that I've haven't seen anything."

His partner, who had a similar, yet younger-looking, face, swept the room with his gaze. "You are aware that sheltering a fugitive is a violation of the law, ma'am? We could turn this place upside down if we wanted to. After all, you technically have no rights under the law."

Mariette gave a cheeky smile. If they were trying to intimidate her, they'd have to try a hell of a lot harder.

"I may not have rights, but I've also done nothing wrong. A lot of people come here for pleasure and company, including some very rich and influential ones. I'd hate to see what might happen if they learn we won't be around to comfort them anymore."

Suddenly, the tall officer changed his tune. "Sorry for the disturbance, ma'am. Enjoy the rest of the evening." With that, the two officers left.

Sarah popped her head out. "Are they gone?"

"Yes. And you need to be as well."

That was the last thing she said before the bullets started flying. Sarah suddenly felt a warmness coming from just above her thigh. The last thing she remembered before she fell into unconscious again was the sound of voices yelling: " _We have to save her, grab her legs, get to the Surgeon..."_


	4. Chapter 4

At the very edge of town, near the massive sea wall that held back the swelling oceans, there was a collection of crumbling houses that had long since been deemed unfit for human habitation and were subsequently abandoned. Inside, in a large family room somewhere near the center, the replicant known only as the Surgeon was washing his instruments with his two companions, Flannery and Winona. Suddenly, a group of women came bursting through where the door had once been, each shouting over each other in the loudest possible voices.

The Surgeon nodded at Flannery, who put two fingers between her lips and let out a whistle so sharp, it made tiny cracks appear in an old glass vase near the couch. The women stopped shouting and turned their attention towards the man in the long coat, walking towards them as he put on his protective gloves.

"Who needs treatment?"

One girl stepped forward. "Our friend was shot. The wound doesn't look too serious, but it needs to be closed and treated."

The "friend" in question was a young woman of about 25-26 years, wearing the same risqué clothes as the rest of the bunch. On close examination, the Surgeon could make out a bullet wound just above the abdomen, covered with a crude bandage.

"I see. Put her down there." He gestured to a bare spot on the ground, where Sarah was laid down.

Removing the bandage, the Surgeon examined the wound. "Well, you're lucky, my dear. Looks like the round went straight through, so there's no need for surgery. A proper bandage will be needed to get the healing process started, but otherwise you'll be fine."

As he applied the bandage, the women split up and wandered about the room, talking with each other or marveling at how well-kept the floors, walls, and ceilings were. Mariette was sitting by herself on the couch when she felt two other bodies land next to her. They turned out to be Flannery and Winona.

The three started talking. "So, how did you two end up with a guy like him?"

"He found us living out of a box behind his place. We'd been close as sisters back when we worked in the colonies, and when they sent us back home to be retired, we fled and tried to make our own way in the world. Too bad this world isn't made for our kind."

"Retired? They're only supposed to do that with older models."

"Trust me, it happens to all models. The companies don't want us wandering around, making trouble and taking up valuable space. Retirement is quick and effective, and best of all, it's cheap."

"Anyway, when Doc over there found us, he took us into his own home. We knew how to keep a place tidy, so he had us scrub out all the dirt, fix the power and heating, and generally try to make the place livable again."

"And what about your names? Flannery and Winona?"

"Well, Doc insisted that we have real names if we were going to live with him. He had this old deck of cards, and he told us to pick one each at random. I picked Flannery, and she got Winona."

As she said this, Mariette noticed that Flannery was twirling a finger through her hair.

"Ah yes. The hair. Well, see, those cards had some nice pictures on them, and we decided to try to match them. You know, since we took their names. The clothes weren't hard to come by, but the hair...well, let's just say those styles are harder to pull off then they look."

Flannery's own greasy locks were tied off in the back into a mess of stiff spikes, the formerly brunette strands stained red with dye. Winona's hair was a light purple, and pulled through the back of her pilot's cap in a long bushy ponytail.

"Well, at least you've tried something interesting. All I did was cut some bangs and chop off the rest."

It was at this point that the Surgeon saw an opportunity to interrupt. "Your friend will be fine for now, but I have to recommend that she have a day or two of rest so that her body can fix the damage properly."

Mariette thought over her options. "I don't feel comfortable bringing her back to the inner city. Too much stress, too much risk of damage. Could I leave her with you?"

"Well, as long as she can work, then I don't mind. It never hurts to have more hands around here."


End file.
